


To Call It A Sadness

by eelu



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Molly's Funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:43:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eelu/pseuds/eelu
Summary: Beau thinks too much, bottles feelings, and regrets.





	To Call It A Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> Take this with a grain of salt, I wrote this purely for myself, to C O P E

To call it a sadness would be an understatement. Beau hasn’t been sad in many years. Sorrow had never gotten her far, pity was weak, and pity for herself was pathetic. Beau did not feel the ache in her heart with tears or solemn memories. The ache was fire. Hot, burning, angry fire. An emotion she never took for granted. 

The monks of the Cobalt Soul did their very best to tame the bitterness, the venomous, the frustrated adrenaline that Beau let power her.   
She would not be broken.   
Her rage was all she had. Her desperation, not for redemption, but revenge, was what drove her.   
Her mentors taught her that revenge would not sate her pain. She did not want it sated. If she could not feel pain, she would assume she was dead. It motivated her, to push onward, to destroy what hurt her in the first place. 

Now, however, there was nothing left to punch.  
There was no one left to blame.  
But the ache in her heart still tore open her chest, and she hated that feeling. Of helplessness, of pure sorrow. 

This time, there was nowhere to push onward to.   
She was stuck, kneeling in the cold dirt, feeling empty enough to disappear and heavy enough to fall forward and sink into the hard earth.  
If anyone belonged there, it was her.

Not him.

Her coat billowed around her knees, the wind picking up from behind her and biting at her neck. Ears red, and fingers numb, still stuffed an inch deep into the soil of a lonesome grave, on a stupid hill, torn apart from half of their friends.  
Their family.  
Beau wondered if Yasha would know. If she could feel the loss of her best friend just from the way the universe felt colder and quieter. She wondered if it stormed, wherever they were. If the sky would break for Yasha and scream the way Beau desperately wanted to scream.  
But her voice was gone.  
There was no scream to give.

Frumpkin padded across the top of the disturbed soil, and circled once around the makeshift grave marker, curling himself to lay down tightly around it. The branch stood like a promise. A promise that they would return, and know where he is. A promise that he was not alone, not ever alone, and that there were people who loved him, and left him with respect. 

Caleb sat a few yards back, Nott tucked against his side, likely now dozing off from the emotional exhaustion. The wizard stared beyond the grave, beyond Beau, into the horizon of questions and meaninglessness. His wrapped fingers rolled the heart pendant necklace in his hand, pressing it absently, yet firmly, to his mouth. The cold of the metal numb against his cut chapped lips. He did not move, still as the monk in front of him. 

After a tear threatened to fall, Beau rubbed at her eyes, smearing grave dirt against her forehead. That was as far as she would allow herself to come to a proper sadness. She maintained that this ache was anger, confusion, and pain.   
She did not pity Mollymauk’s death. She was not sorry for him, nor herself. He deserved better. He deserved his life. She prayed that there was another side, somewhere Molly would continue on, happy and carefree and full of-

Full of shit. She respected Molly, and in a weird way, cared for him. They fought like siblings, they took the piss out on one another. He was an annoying piece of shit. 

Beau would kill a hundred Lorenzo’s, bare fisted, to have him back.   
But there was no Lorenzo left to kill. That deed was done. 

And all that she was left with was a rage in her chest, a sadness in her heart, and a stupid deck of cards.


End file.
